Venezuelan Author Makes A Splash With First Novel, Unusual Marketing

September 18, 2003|BY MAGALY MORALES STAFF WRITER

Latinas are still having a hard time shaking off the stereotype of hip-swinging hot tamales.

That's why when the press release promoting a debut novel arrives -- the "Top 10" reasons to interview Marisol begins with: "She only has one name, but lots of curves. Less to type, more to watch" -- you can't help but cringe.

The sentiment worsens after you read what turns out to be a surprisingly well-written book, The Lady, the Chef, and the Courtesan (Rayo, $21.95). Why would a legitimately talented novelist be marketed as a spitfire bombshell?

Articulate and impossibly charismatic, Marisol Konczal -- the Denver-based Venezuelan writer who is in Miami today and Friday -- says she never expected the kind of reaction this marketing scheme would generate.

"My editor thought it would get people's attention, but in reality that's not all I'm about," explains Konczal, 40, whose resume includes bikini model, aerobics instructor and belly dancer, as well as advertising and marketing executive. "I was a model when I was young, but I have a master's degree and have worked really hard my entire life."

The marketing masterminds at Rayo -- a HarperCollins imprint devoted to Latin-American authors -- dropped her last name, which is Polish, and distributed sultry publicity shots that show Konczal (pronounced kon-chal) with lots of makeup and a seductive strand of hair slipping across her face.

However gimmicky, the strategy appears to be working. Just two weeks after its release, The Lady, the Chef, and the Courtesan rose to No. 3 on the Denver Post best-seller list, and the press from Denver to the Netherlands is calling her a "Venezuelan va-va-voomstress."

Ugh.

The novel, which Konczal says is not autobiographical, revolves around Pilar, a Chicago-based journalist who struggles as she tries to balance her career and sense of self with her tradition-bound Venezuelan family.

The title of the book springs from an old Spanish adage -- probably concocted by a man -- that says a true woman must be a lady in the living room, a chef in the kitchen and a courtesan in the bedroom. But far from being an erotic how-to guide, the novel is a love story woven within a testament to the ties that hold generations together.

"Pilar returns home to Caracas to attend her grandmother's funeral and there she is given her nana's diaries, which contain not only advice on womanhood and gentility and old family recipes, but also her grandmother's confession of an illicit love affair," says Konczal. "This revelation frees Pilar and helps her find a path of self-realization."

Like the character of her book, Konczal shared a special bond with her late grandmother, who died while Konczal was on a business trip.

"I didn't attend her funeral," recalls Konczal, who moved to the United States at age 18, against her family's wishes. "Somehow I had let myself get trapped in this career-first, power-hungry mode, forsaking my roots and my culture."

Two years ago, Konczal quit her job as vice president of marketing at a Denver-based software company. Over the following three months, she wrote in longhand at a bookstore cafe 28 short stories that were a celebration of the life lessons (in life, love and the kitchen) she had received from her grandmother.

"I wrote this book to fulfill a promise I made to her, using as inspiration that old proverb, which she often used," she says.

Like most first-time writers, Konczal shopped the book around to more than a dozen agents, including Sandra Dijkstra (who represents Amy Tan, author of The Joy Luck Club).

"Dijkstra sent a reply saying she wasn't accepting new authors," Konczal recalls. "But I never quit until I hear `no' for the third time."

So she placed the manuscript in a red box, wrapped it in red ribbon and shipped it to Dijkstra. Two days later, she received a phone call with an offer.

The original short stories evolved as the grandmother's diary entries, written as a legacy to Pilar and beautifully re-creating a period when the role of a Latin American lady was restricted to the living room, the kitchen and of course, the bedroom. Dijkstra suggested incorporating a plotline driven by modern characters (Pilar and her love interests). This part took Konczal longer to write (six months) yet feels rushed to fit the concept.